


your green eyes, they don't miss a thing

by trustingno1



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustingno1/pseuds/trustingno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're jealous," he murmurs.</p>
<p>She snorts, inelegantly, into her pillow, and he can't help his smile. "I am <i>not</i>," she scoffs.</p>
<p>"You are," he says, lightly, "But you needn't be."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(7x03 Orange Blossom Ice Cream missing scene)</p>
            </blockquote>





	your green eyes, they don't miss a thing

  
"You have fun with Erica?" she asks, as he slips into the bed behind her.  
  
"I found the book," he replies, and she doesn't turn over to face him, stays curled on her side, a tiny, prickly ball of anger, and oh, how he adores her.  
  
"That's not what I asked."  
  
"You're jealous," he murmurs.  
  
She snorts, inelegantly, into her pillow, and he can't help his smile. "I am _not_ ," she scoffs.  
  
"You are," he says, lightly, "But you needn't be."  
  
She rolls onto her back, at that, shifting under the light sheet covering her.  
  
"Oh, needn't I?" she mocks, under her breath, without any heat.  
  
"No," he says, simply, and she turns her head for a moment to look at him, soft and unsure and he gazes back at her (and he can't say it, not yet, but despite the terribly brief list of physical intimacies he's managed to amass over the years, she's the first relationship he's had since Angela and that - _that_ \- means something, too).  
  
"I don't trust her," she says, letting the moment pass. He clears his throat.  
  
"Mariticide does tend to color your opinion of people," he says, quietly, deadpan.  
  
"Don't make fun of me," she says, "Not about this."  
  
"I'm not," he says, sobering.  
  
"I don't like making deals with murderers. I don't like that this is on her terms," she says, to the ceiling, voice steady. "It has _nothing to do_ with the fact that you - that the two of you - "  
  
He leans in close. "Kissed," he supplies, lips ghosting along her cheek, "Once," he pauses, as her lips pull down into a frown she can't help. " _Four years ago_ ," and he presses a deliberate kiss to the corner of her mouth, before settling back on his side of the bed.  
  
She swallows and he reaches out to touch the back of her hand, where it lies between them on the bed.  
  
"Something's hinky," she says - ignores the way he whispers, amused, " _Hinky?_ " in reply. "She's lying. About strange things. She can speak Lebanese better than she's letting on."  
  
"She's not telling us everything," he agrees, idly stroking her hand.  
  
" _Erica Flynn_ is trying to _manipulate_ someone?" she asks, mock scandalized. Then, seriously, "This is too dangerous," she says, "Too many loose ends. I don't like it."  
  
"Mmmn?" he prompts, and her hand turns beneath his, until his fingertips are resting in her palm.  
  
"How did Jan's last courier die?" she asks, rhetorically. "We should've looked into that."  
  
He hums his agreement.  
  
She turns her head on the pillow again to study him, in the dark. "You obviously know her a lot better than I do," she says, drily, "but I just don't see Erica Flynn bein' OK with jail again. Even with a reduced sentence."  
  
"She wouldn't, would she," he says, slowly, as he thinks - and, oh, obviously. _Obviously_. "Jan called me an actor," he says, and she's not particularly fazed by the non-sequitur.  
  
"You are a bit of a show-off."  
  
"Showman," he corrects.  
  
"Show-off," she maintains. "But what does that have to do with-" he laces his fingers with hers for a moment, and squeezes her hand.  
  
"Lisbon," he says, with a grin - is undeterred by the way she groans at his expression, "I have an _excellent_ plan."  
  


 

 


End file.
